


With Song and Celebration

by redheadgleek



Category: Glee
Genre: 5 Times, Canon Compliant, M/M, Minor Blaine Anderson/David Karofsky, My First Smut, Pride, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 21:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16003454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgleek/pseuds/redheadgleek
Summary: Pride weekend has always been a place of home and acceptance for Kurt and Blaine throughout the years. A 5+1 fic.





	With Song and Celebration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honeysucklepink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysucklepink/gifts).



> Written for the 2018 Klaine Fic Exchange.
> 
> Endless thanks to Snarkyhag for her expert betaing and encouragement.

* * *

**June 2002**

Kurt Hummel’s nose smudges the window as he takes in the tall buildings and the people bustling on the sidewalk. Their taxi swerves and honks loudly at another taxi which lets out its own indigent blare. He’s never seen so many people before; they swarm the sidewalks and leak out on the roads, causing their taxi driver to let out another string of accented profanity and swerve roughly again. 

Kurt’s mom throws an arm across him like a seatbelt. “We’ll be fine, Liz.” Dad attempts to reassure. 

Mom frowns at Dad, then slumps against him in forced relaxation. “Wouldn’t that be an ironic headline? Local mom with terminal cancer and only weeks to live dies in an taxi cab in New York City.”

“Liz…”

“I know. Just a little morbid humor.”

Kurt looks back out the window and pretends not to be listening. Of course he knows what terminal and morbid mean; Mom and Dad hadn’t hidden anything from him since Mom was diagnosed a year ago. He had gone on Saturday afternoons to the infusion center and told her stories and drew pictures to make her laugh while nurses stuck large needles into her chest to give her medications that made her tired and thin. Two weeks ago, Mom and Dad had sat down together, Dad choking on the words, to tell him that the cancer had progressed and there weren’t any treatments available that would stop the cancer. They had cried and hugged, Mom answering all of Kurt’s questions, Dad holding his hand tightly. 

Mom had proposed going on a trip once school had ended, a place that they had never visited before, and after pouring over maps and budgets, tickets were purchased to New York City. Once, she told her listening son, she had applied to college at NYU, but, when faced with the reality of costs of living and tuition, she had decided to stay in her hometown and go to Ohio State University. (“I never regretted that decision, baby, because I had the best four years of my life finding out who I was, and then, on the day of graduation, I met your dad.”) There wasn’t time or strength to do all of the things that Elizabeth had longed to do in her life, not that most really ranked in importance anymore. She’d choose never seeing the pyramids of Egypt for just a few more years with her Burt and Kurt. She wasn’t going to get that either; instead NYC would have to provide Kurt with lasting memories. 

Maneuvering the streets and subways had been taxing on Mom’s waning strength, so they caught taxis and rode the big red tour buses to see the city. And for minutes, even hours, they all could forget the pallor of sadness that had taken residence in their lives. Mom’s smile reached her eyes easily, and Dad held her hand and kissed her cheek as he pushed her wheelchair through the museums. In the last few days, they had taken a carriage ride around Central Park and splashed in the big fountain, crawled underneath the big blue whale at the National History Museum (even Dad had laid beside the two of them, grumbling as they laughed at the disgruntled tourists stepping around their pile), and explored the Marble Sarcophagus at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Kurt had pretended to run away and hide in one of the bathrooms, just like Claudia and Jamie did in the _Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler,_ which Mom had read aloud to him last year. 

Today, they are off to lunch which, to Kurt’s loudly voiced disappointment, is not McDonald's (“what’s the point of a vacation if you don’t get french fries and chicken nuggets?”). And afterwards, they’re going to see _The Lion King_ , a real live Broadway musical of his favorite Disney movie. That wasn’t entirely true; he had just stopped telling people that _The Little Mermaid_ was his favorite movie years ago, when his classmates had teased him about liking girly movies. But there wasn’t a Little Mermaid musical, so it wasn’t really a lie either. He’s trying not to act too excited, but from his parents’ amused glances his way, he knows that he isn’t succeeding. 

The cab stops a few streets from their restaurant. 

“Big parade’s down there. Street’s closed.” The driver gestures and clicks the fare calculator. 

His dad grumbles as he hands over some money and they exit the taxi. “He could have gotten us closer.” 

“It’s not far, Burt. I’ll be fine.” 

Dad tucks his hand under her elbow, pulling her close in the crowd. “We’ll go slow. Tell me if you need a break.”

At first, Kurt barely notices the increasing press of the crowd, so dazzled is he by the large flashing signs advertising various entertainments and products. There’s something about this city that calls to him, makes him itch to live here and explore every corner. He imagines he is Harriet the Spy, carrying a notebook and writing down his observations; he would have so much detail to fill his notebook with!

The people part for a moment, and ahead he sees balloons and flags and a flash of people in the street. “A parade! Can we go watch? Please?” He begs, tugging on his parents’ hands.

He doesn’t quite understand the look that they share or the frown that briefly crosses Dad’s face. Mom smiles down at him, smoothing his hair affectionately. “Sure, honey. I think we’ve got a few minutes. Just stay close.”

The atmosphere is electric, the crowd screams louder when Pink’s “Get the Party Started” blares over loudspeakers and Kurt dances along with the people smiling and waving as they march down the streets in vibrant colors, with rainbows painted on their cheeks and chests.

His gaze catches on two young men across the street from him. Both are shirtless, with glitter smeared across their faces and dusted in their hair. The taller one has his arm wrapped around his companion, pulled close to his chest as he leans down to whisper something in his ear. His companion grins, and then, easily, without even glancing around, twists up to kiss the man. 

Kurt’s face flushes at the unexpected intimacy, at the feeling that he is watching something terribly private and something that he wants more than anything. He’s suddenly aware, looking around, of the many men who appeared to be coupled to each other, holding hands or just crowded close. He spies two women with a girl his age holding their hands—obviously their daughter—and nobody seems surprised.

All those years, when he pretended that he was Ariel falling in love with Prince Eric, he had never thought that perhaps Prince Eric could marry a boy and they could have a family together.

He can’t describe the feeling that circulates in his belly, but it feels like something exciting and comforting at the same time—he fits in here, somehow. 

At Kurt’s persistence, Dad buys them all rainbow stickers that they stick to their foreheads and cheeks before grabbing food from the street carts (hot dogs are almost as good as chicken tenders) and Mom snags him a flag that he waves enthusiastically before they walk away to get to the musical on time. 

Later, when asked, Kurt will say that seeing _The Lion King_ was his favorite part of his trip, but he keeps the picture of the three of them with rainbows across their faces next to his bed and the flag next to the perfume bottle of his mom’s. 

* * *

**June 2009**

On the Wednesday before graduation from 8th grade, Blaine Anderson wakes with two new pimples on his chin, joining the cluster on his right cheek. Zits aren’t new, but the breakouts seem to be increasing recently and he stares unhappily at his blotchy face as he brushes his teeth. He’s pretty sure that Taylor Williams had been laughing to her group about him yesterday and while he doesn’t really care what she thinks, he doesn’t want them to know that he doesn’t care either. He scrubs at his face extra hard in the shower and picks at them absentmindedly during breakfast. 

His mom tugs his hand away. “You’ll scar that beautiful skin of yours. Let it be!” she scolds before shooing him off to school. 

It’s definitely starting to feel like the end of school, with the warm summer just outside beckoning. Blaine completes his Algebra final with ease and stares out the window during English. It’s early release today but he has choir practice and they’re preparing for their final performance for graduation.

Two things happen that afternoon. He steps up to the microphone, the music swelling. Ms. Dean nods to him and he starts to sing on cue, his voice building in volume and confidence: 

_I have often dreamed of a far off place_  
_Where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me_  
_Where the crowds would cheer, when they see my face_  
_And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be_

He loves singing, loves how his friends’ voices blend with his behind him, the piano pounding out the chords. The chorus fades as he takes on the penultimate verse: 

_I don't care how far, I can go the distance  
'Till I find my hero's welcome— _

On the last phrase, as his voice stretches towards the high notes, the door opens, and Austin Miller walks in. Handsome, popular Austin, with shocking white hair and blue eyes and a smile that seems to light up when he sees Blaine. Who plays tennis and is already rumored to have scholarships for college. Austin, who sits next to Blaine in Social Studies and already smells like aftershave (Blaine hasn’t even shaved yet). Austin, who Blaine has adored this entire year through longing glances when nobody else was around to see. 

Austin gives Blaine that brilliant smile and a thumbs up as he passes through the auditorium. And Blaine’s voice cracks and falters. “ _Wa-a-iting in your arms”_ he fumbles, a hot blush flashing across his face. 

He looks quickly away from the closing door, panicking, hoping that his mistake hadn’t betrayed those feelings that he’s tried so hard to keep close. Of course he knows that he’s— he’s not denying it— someday he’ll say it, out loud, just in his own time. His classmates titter behind him. He refuses to look back at them. 

Blaine coughs loudly and clears his throat. “Sorry, may we go through that again?” His voice is steady, masking his worry. He won’t cry. He won’t. 

“Of course, Blaine. Let’s start at measure 10, top of page 5. Ready when you are.” 

***

Blaine stays after, as always, to help put the music and chairs away. Ms. Dean always appreciates the help and Blaine uses the opportunity to ask her tips on improving his voice. She’s fantastic at dealing with pubescent voices that change in pitch on a weekly basis and she often has little tricks to help him through the cracks and wavers as his voice gradually settles.

He doesn’t say anything today, as Samantha has stayed as well. He doesn’t know her well—they share Choir and Math but they hang out with different groups at lunch. She’s quiet and mostly stays in the background; Blaine can’t recall ever having a conversation with her. 

She seems to want to say something to Blaine, opens her mouth several times, and then shuts it with a quick look at Ms. Dean. 

Ms. Dean claps them both on the shoulder. “Thanks for the help, kids. You’re going to sound fantastic on Friday. Don’t forget: Come an hour before so we can run through the songs one more time.” She heads down the hall, whistling cheerfully.

“Here.” Samantha slides him a flyer carefully folded in half as soon as Ms. Dean walks away. “My mom and I are going next week. We could, um, give you a ride if you want. I put my phone number — I won’t tell anyone, if you — I just thought you might — no, don’t open it now! Just, um, give me a call if you want to go.” She’s gone before Blaine can even think of words to say. 

Blaine glances around the emptying hall and folds down the flyer. “Columbus Pride 2009: Freedom” the headline screams in vibrant colors. He flicks it closed and stuffs it in his backpack, his heart hammering in his chest. She _knows,_ and she’s fine with it. Maybe she’s like him? Or an ally? “Hi Samantha. What time will you be leaving?” Blaine texts that evening. 

“Call me Sam. We’re leaving at 7. Want a ride?” 

***

Blaine’s not sure what he was expecting for a Pride celebration in the middle of Ohio, but he’s surprised by the large number of people already lining the streets of downtown Columbus. He’s seen pictures of the parades in New York City and San Francisco, but those were big cities—he hadn’t expected to see such signs of support here. 

They have to push through a few crowds to find a shady spot to watch the parade - already the humidity and heat are making clothing stick uncomfortably.

A drag queen, with voluptuous breasts only overshadowed by the massive red wig perched on her head, saunters over to them. “Your first Pride, sweethearts? You must have a flag to wave at the floats. Be sure to cheer extra loud when I pass by. Oh, Nina!” she calls out to another queen, “look, it’s their first Pride!”

The queen pauses to take them both in. She tilts Blaine’s chin up with her flawless fingernails and looks into his eyes. “Be loved, my darlings. Be loved and be free, because, here, you are with family.” She kisses his cheek, and repeats the gesture with Sam before disappearing into the throngs. 

He feels lighter with her blessing, buoyed by the applause of the crowd. He takes in the people’s cries of “we love you” that grow louder when the local high school’s Gay-Straight Alliance marches past. 

Couples walk down the center of the street, swinging clasped hands while waving enthusiastically. Blaine’s especially struck by a middle-aged pair, dressed in white, with signs of “Just Married” draped over their necks. When the parade pauses, they take the opportunity to lean over and kiss—a brief kiss, but it’s the first time Blaine has seen two men kiss, outside of the photos that he’s found on furtive internet searches. It’s his deepest desire displayed in vibrant color, and he yearns and aches to have that someday. Someday. 

As the parade continues, Blaine cheers and nearly cries, his heart glowing with possibility, soaking up every bit of acceptance that is so freely given in this magical place. He stares at the beautiful young men, with slick skin and toned muscles, because he _can_ , and he blushes and winks daringly when they notice. 

Perhaps, he thinks to himself, when school starts again, he’ll come out. Maybe tell Austin how he feels, or maybe not Austin — but somebody, a boy that he can hold hands with and kiss; somebody to go to dances with and to ball games. He’s been so lonely, holding himself back, scared of what would happen if anybody found out, but maybe he doesn’t need to be. Maybe he can be free and loved. 

Perhaps he can start now. He leans in to his new friend, who appears as enthralled and overwhelmed by the environment as he is. 

“Sam,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth for the first time ever, “I’m gay.” 

* * *

**June 2014**

Kurt wipes off the last of the day’s grime from the counters and stuffs the last of the laminated menus back into the metal holder. He’s exhausted — it’s been a long day catering to clamoring customers who streamed in constantly throughout the evening. It’s long past midnight when the last dawdlers finally finished their meals and left the restaurant; he hadn’t even a spare moment to grab dinner for himself until an hour ago. After so many months in his employment, Gunther entrusts him to lock up, so Kurt’s the sole worker left in the building. 

It’s true that New York is the city that never sleeps, but it’s usually quieter on the walk to the subway stop, allowing Kurt some precious moments to decompress before collapsing in bed. 

Not tonight. Tonight, however, he has to push himself through clusters of revelers in thin mesh tops and tight shorts, wearing gaudy necklaces and bracelets of rainbow plastic and —

Oh. 

He had forgotten that it was Pride weekend. 

He flashes back to memories of last year attending Pride with Blaine, just a few short weeks after he had graduated and moved into the loft. Those weeks had been packed with showing Blaine all over the city, introducing him to the neighborhood, pointing out Kurt’s favorite finds from the past year. Kurt hadn’t been in the city the previous year for Pride, so the event was something new for both of them. Kurt had faint memories of going to the Pride parade with his parents, before he had even known what Pride was or stood for — spending Pride with his fiancé was something even more special. 

They had wandered around the street fair in the Village; Blaine had purchased loud, matching rainbow tie-dyed tanks that he insisted they wear. (“Really, Blaine?” “Judge me all you want, I know you have a soft spot for the kitschy too.”) They watched and waved as the floats and people marched by; Blaine was especially moved by Edie Windsor leading the parade as Grand Marshal and had pushed his way to the front to holler his “thank you Edie!” cheers with the others. And they kissed on the street corner where nobody had cared or sneered, his hands rubbing circles across Blaine’s back, surrounded and supported by their community. In the evening, they met up with Dani and her new partner to catch up over dinner, Elliott joining for drinks, gossiping about everything that had happened since they had separated as a band. They parted from their friends with promises to keep in touch, with Blaine’s hand in his, his ring pressed against Blaine’s warm palm. Intoxicated on the swirling emotions of Pride, their love-making that night carried extra weight of love and affirmation. 

It had been so easy that day — everything was right and perfect then. They were engaged. He was going to marry Blaine, his sweet, love-of-his-life Blaine. 

He was supposed to share a hundred Prides with Blaine. 

The rainbow tank-tops had been carefully packed into the boxes of Blaine’s belongings which still sat by the sliding door, belongings that Blaine had never returned to retrieve, denying Kurt that one last chance to salvage the relationship that he ruined. 

His eyes prickle with tears that he refuses to shed. What’s done is done and as much as his heart fights with him, it’s for the best. It is. It has to be. 

He shakes his head firmly. He’s a couple of seasons behind on Breaking Bad. Binging on others making even worse decisions than he sounds like the perfect weekend to him, rather than fighting crowds at an event taken over by corporate shills. He’d better pick up another tub of ice cream. 

***

**June 2014**

“Blaine! Blaine! Over here!” Dave looms tall above the crowd; Blaine waves back and winds through the crowd to where Dave is waiting. 

“Hey, so glad you came.” Dave greets Blaine with a full hug. It’s the first time since they started hanging out that Dave has hugged him, but as Blaine’s been a little touch-starved since— well, since things fell apart — he leans into the embrace before they move to find their seats in the sun-soaked bleachers. 

Reconnecting with Dave Karofsky at Scandals is one of the smaller ways that Blaine’s life had changed unexpectedly in the last couple of months, and surprisingly, it’s also been one of the smoothest. At first, Blaine had worried that being around Dave would remind him too much of Kurt—while he had progressed enough to not cry every time he thought about his ex-fiancé, his heart still clenched painfully with most reminders—but Kurt and Dave’s circles had minimally intersected after Dave’s transfer and Kurt’s name rarely came up after Blaine’s brief explanation of the cancelled engagement. They’ve had lunch a few times, gone dancing at Scandals where Dave taught Blaine how to two-step to “Any Man of Mine”, and cheered on the Cleveland Indians with Dave’s friends at the local bar—all activities he could never imagine doing with Kurt and are refreshing in their freedom from memories. 

They’ve spent the weekend in Columbus for the annual Pride event, as Dave volunteered to march in the parade and help with the booth for OSU where he’s studying History and Secondary Education. College has suited him and softened the closeted, self-loathing bully who had once made Kurt’s life miserable. Dave’s now heavily involved in Ohio State University’s LGBTQIAP student support groups, taking on one of the freshmen in a mentor role, and wears the label of “gay” proudly. 

It’s been a fun couple of days, hanging out with Dave’s friends while handing out condoms and dental dams to current and prospective students. Conversations flowed from plans for the summer to gay athletes and whether Michael Sam’s recent draft would lead to others coming out, and Blaine genuinely enjoyed their company. 

Blaine especially loved walking with the OSU contingency down the streets of Columbus. He’s attended Columbus Pride every year since he was 14 years old and had just come out—every year but last year when he was in New York and where he should be this year, his brain unhelpfully reminds him—but it’s the first time that he’s been involved with the actual Pride festival itself. The crowds were thick that morning, clustered on the sidewalks, cheering and screaming to deafening levels. Blaine, overwhelmed with the love and sense of belonging that emanated from the community, choked back tears more than once. Something in him, that core of hurt and failure since he left his dreams behind in New York, healed a little over the hour long parade. 

During it all, Dave was quietly attentive, introducing Blaine to friends and teachers, drawing Blaine into conversations during pauses in the parade route while smiling and waving enthusiastically to the crowd. Dave’s a good guy, surrounded by supportive people who genuinely like him, and he’s been a solid friend to Blaine these last few weeks when he so desperately needed one. At the end of the day, when Dave invited him, nervously, to the concluding event of Pride, the Bat-N-Rouge charity drag competition and baseball game held the following evening, Blaine didn’t hesitate in saying yes.

The ballpark is a far cry from the gay epicenter that is New York City. The men and women here are older, pudgier, and there’s more blue jeans and Buckeye t-shirts than shirtless men with ripped abs. Their costumes are a little rougher than the sleek drag performers that populate the clubs in Chelsea and the Village. Blaine knows how much easier it was to be out in New York than in high school in Ohio. The people here have fiercely claimed their identity and defied the conservative culture around them, and they wear that determination behind the easy-going Midwestern friendliness that Blaine has missed so much. His heart clenches at the sight of the older men sitting side by side, while something else softens a little. Things may be challenging right now — he doesn’t know if he’s going back to school in the fall, where to get a job if he doesn’t, and how to possibly get over Kurt — but being here grounds him. He will survive, because that’s what his community does. 

Blaine hoots for his favorite drag queen in the competition — a Tippi Hedren-esque costume complete with beehive hair and birds — and laughs at the game where the performers slide into bases wearing heels. He eats popcorn and hotdogs and meets Dave’s eyes for moments that weigh heavy with potential. 

It’s a good day, one of the best he’s had in a long while, and when Dave gingerly reaches over and takes his hand, Blaine squeezes back.

* * *

**June 2015**

Incessant honking and cheers filter though Blaine’s consciousness. He presses closer to Kurt’s sleeping form and attempts to ignore the cacophony outside their window that is now pounding inside his head. He’s somewhat successful, just starting to drift back to sleep when Kurt’s moans of “god, make it stop” wake him up again. 

Blaine blearily opens his eyes. They had been up late the night before, jumping from one nightclub to another that proliferate Castro Street, where they pressed their sweaty bodies together in beat to the thrumming music and chased cocktails with edibles followed by simmering makeouts on the dance floor. They’d collapsed naked and horny and completely intoxicated on the bed, giggling through earnest, sloppy blowjobs before passing out in the early morning dawn. Blaine had fully intended to sleep off his massive hangover curled next to his husband into the late morning before finding another corner of San Francisco to explore, but that seems less and less likely.

The blaring cars haven’t stopped, in fact, they seem to increase exponentially with each passing minute. Blaine struggles out of bed, squinting at the early morning sun filtering through the window. The streets are chaotic, filled with people shouting and hugging and waving rainbow flags. He searches through his alcohol-soaked brain as to why there would be a party now. They’d come here specifically for their delayed honeymoon to celebrate Pride in the gay capital of world, but he thought the festivities weren’t starting until tomorrow.

His phone buzzes. Kurt’s chimes loudly. In mere seconds text notifications cover his screen. His mind is still processing slowly, not quite understanding the words he’s reading (“Congratulations!” and “Oh sweetheart, I’m so happy! Give Kurt a kiss for us!”) as Kurt thumbs through his texts, gasps, and taps frantically on the screen.

“ _Blaine._ ” Kurt breathes, holding out his phone. “We won.”

He stares at the headline, the rainbow flag stretched above. **Supreme Court Rules in Favor of Same-Sex Marriage Nationwide**. Somehow, those words start to worm into his understanding. This was it. The decision that he had been waiting half his life to hear. “We won?”

“In a landmark opinion, a divided Supreme Court on Friday ruled that same-sex couples can marry nationwide, establishing a new civil right and handing gay rights advocates a historic victory.” Kurt reads aloud, his voice cracking. “‘No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice and family,’ Kennedy wrote. ‘In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than they once were.’" 

Kurt looks up, tears gathering in his eyes. “It’s legal now. Same-sex marriage. In all 50 states.” 

“We won. Oh my god, we won!” Blaine stumbles over to Kurt and kisses him deeply. Within moments, their kisses transform from celebratory presses of lips into explorations of mouths and skin, with Kurt sucking promises into his jaw and neck. He’s trembling with the need to touch and hold his (legal, 100% everywhere legal) husband. Kurt apparently feels the same, as he lures Blaine back down in bed and crawls over him, pressing him deep into the mattress. His hands grip Kurt’s back and firm ass, trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

His emotions are a mess, relief mixed with elation and arousal, that surge through him in the wake of Kurt’s talented fingers— Kurt’s thrusts and rhythmic rockings— Kurt’s hot mouth against his throat—Kurt’s— _Kurt_ —Kurt! 

His husband’s face is _beautiful_ as he shudders through his orgasm, that combination of bliss and satisfaction, a look that Blaine never sees outside of these moments of intimacy and doesn’t want to share with _anybody_ , a look he wants to see every day for the rest of their lives, and oh god, he _loves_ him so much and—

Kurt gathers Blaine’s cock into the circle of his tight grip. A few strokes to the shaft, a well-placed tease under and across the head — it’s not _fair_ how well Kurt knows his body — and his body tenses and tips over into rapturous release. 

Blaine bursts into tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, as Kurt shushes him and hugs him closer, tucking blankets back around them. “I’m sorry, I’m so happy and I love you too much and I’m tired and I’m, god, I’m still drunk!” 

Kurt laughs and smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s go back to sleep, love. Historic moments can wait until we’ve had some more sleep.” 

Later, they’ll awaken and trek with the rest of the city down to City Hall where they’ll watch dozens of couples proclaim their love and get married on the lawn. They’ll cheer themselves hoarse when the mayor pronounces an official city holiday and drapes City Hall in Pride colors. They’ll dance in the streets and hug hundreds of strangers who will feel like family. And they’ll wave flags in jubilation and allow the infectious celebration of an entire city to wash them in hope and love and acceptance. 

For now though, the sounds from the streets fade into the crevices of his consciousness. Blaine wraps an arm around his so very legal husband and sleeps. 

* * *

**February 2025**

“You wouldn’t believe the call I got this afternoon.” Kurt calls out to his husband as he walks in the door and shrugs off his shoes and jacket. 

Blaine looks up from the bubbling pan on the stove to greet Kurt with a kiss. “Hi. How were rehearsals?”

Right now, their days off are not meshing well but Kurt’s home in time for dinner this week at least. Soon they won’t even have that overlap in their schedule; such is life as two busy and in-demand performers. Ten years of marriage have taught them to prioritize whatever time they can piece together. 

“Better. Desiree is still a tyrant but she’s calmed down now that Lana has learned her lines. About time. It’s not like we’re not opening in a month.” Kurt rants. “Where’s Eloise?”

“Asleep. She crashed on the sofa watching Dora. What was your call about?” 

“Hmm?” Kurt peeks around the corner to confirm that his four year old is sacked out with her thumb in her mouth—breaking her of that habit has been in vain; they’d better start saving up for braces. “Oh! Dad called.”

Blaine turns his focus back to dinner preparation. “Everything alright with him and Carole?”

“They’re fine, but get this? They met with the city council last week to address suicide prevention for LGBTQ youth and not only did the council agree to a television ad, Lima is going to host a Pride weekend this summer!”

Blaine looks up at the unexpected news. “What?” 

“Apparently, the mayor’s granddaughter came out as bisexual a couple of months ago, so she loved the idea,” Kurt picks up a knife and starts chopping carrots beside Blaine. “David Karofsky was there too, with his father and boyfriend. You know that he recently started teaching history at the junior high, right? I think Dad said that he’s also going to be the junior football coach.”

Blaine nods. “I think your dad mentioned that the last time we were there.”

“Right. Anyway, Dad said he was pretty persuasive when he told the council about his suicide attempt in high school,” Kurt says. “There were a few votes against, of course, but in the end the measure passed.” 

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Oh, wait, it gets better, “ Kurt gushes, getting more into the story. “Dad and Carole, along with David and his family are now on the planning committee and they want us to be the parade masters.”

Blaine drops his knife and stares incredulously at his husband. “What? Us?”

Kurt munches on a carrot. “It wasn’t even Dad’s idea. We’re apparently hot celebrities in the Lima LGBTQ community now that we’ve got statues sitting on our mantel.” 

“Kurt! That’s–I can’t believe it.”

Kurt smiles sardonically. “Who would have ever have thought that Lima would actually be entering the 21st century and want us as their guests of honor?”

Blaine wipes his hands and pulls out his phone, ready to make their to-do list. “We should look for tickets home tonight. I’ll have to let Paul know. My understudy will be delighted to take over some performances.”

Kurt snorts. Blaine’s understudy has been very vocal about being willing to step in at any time. “I’m sure he will and now he won’t have to resort to accidentally tripping you on the stairs.” 

“Enrique’s not that intense.” At Kurt’s look, Blaine relents, “okay, he is. So is Desiree. You think she’ll let you have the weekend off?”

“I can out-diva her any day. If not, I’ll find some relative to bury. Now. I’ve been thinking up ideas for our costumes. I’ve got some drawings over here.”

Blaine laughs and catches his husband. “Of course you do. Promise me: no glitter paint.”

Kurt pouts and Blane chases his lips with another kiss. “But—”

“Nope, I’m not spending two weeks washing it out of my hair. Now if you wanted to wear those leather pants you bought last year… you know, the ones that make your ass and thigh look amazing, I’ll have no complaints.” Blaine gives an appreciative squeeze.

“I see how this is going to go. Come on, husband, feed me dinner and we can talk about our plans.”

“Deal, you go wake the kidlet.”

***

**March 2025**

“Hi Kur—” 

“Are our tickets refundable?”

“What tickets?”

“Our plane tickets to Lima this summer.”

“I’d have to check. Why?”

“Pride weekend is cancelled.”

“What? Why?”

“The city council had an emergency meeting last night and denied the permit to assemble.”

“Can they do that?”

“Legally? Probably not, but when has it ever stopped them before?” 

“I’m sorry, Kurt.”

“I don’t know why this is upsetting me so much. The fact that they approved it in the first place was shocking, so I shouldn’t be surprised when they said nope after all.”

“It was nice having the hope that we could actually go home and be welcomed there.”

“Yeah. It was. In any case, Dad says that he’s contacted a lawyer and they’re looking into a lawsuit.” 

“Knowing Burt, they’ll be backing down in a month.”

“Maybe. And if not, we should still fly out and march in front of their bigoted faces.”

“We should. We haven’t been back to Lima for a while.”

“I gotta get back. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

***

**April 2025**

To Blaine: _Pride’s back on!_  
To Kurt: _We won the lawsuit already? Did they settle?_  
To Blaine: _Lawsuit went national, obvs. Huff Post and Newsweek sent reporters. The city council met again last night and took another vote and surprise, surprise, changed their minds again._  
To Kurt: _Still want to go?_  
To Blaine: _You bet your ass I do. We’re going to drive down Main Street in that limousine and I’m going to stare down Dorothy “you’re turning Lima into a sin city!” Isaacson until she’s overcome with vapors._

***

**May 2025**

To Blaine: _I’m half tempted to make this our outfits. Just to spit those cronies. ([Attached](https://ddietrich.photoshelter.com/image/I0000V2Xe4WjW6FE))_  
To Kurt: _There’s not enough time to go to the gym to make that work._  
To Kurt: _Find me something that flatters my dad bod_.  
To Blaine: _You do_ not _have a dad bod. *eyeroll emoji*_  
To Kurt: _Face it, we’re no longer the nubile 20 yo we once were._  
To Blaine: _I got carded just last week._  
To Kurt: _He was indulging you._  
To Blaine: _Well, he didn’t ask you._  
To Kurt: _Some of us have embraced our dad bods._  
To Blaine: _Shut it._

***

**June 2025**

It’s early enough in June that the morning should be relatively cool, but the sun and humidity have already climbed to sweltering conditions. Blaine almost regrets not giving in to the rainbow spandex that Kurt had teased as their costume as he tugs at his bowtie. 

“Blaine! Blaine!” 

Blaine squints into the morning sun at the woman approaching him. It takes a minute to recognize the person he knew ten year years ago with her deepening wrinkles and white hair, rainbow streaks in the undercut. 

“Liz!” He hugs her tightly. “I haven’t seen you in ages!” 

“Somebody doesn’t visit,” she chastises, “although I hear you’re not needing any more engagement rings.” 

Blaine holds up his hand and wiggles his finger. “Ten years now and with a five-year-old.” 

“Ten years! Where has the time gone. Where’s your family?”

“Kurt and Eloise went to help Burt, my father-in-law, unload chairs at the pavillon. There’s always something to do last minute. They should be here soon. And Jan? Is she here today?”

Liz’s smile fades a little. “No. No, she died a few years back.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yes. It was peaceful, but … I still miss her deeply. Every day.” She stares off for a moment, before shaking it off. “She would have loved this.” Liz gestures to the gathering families clustering on the sidewalks underneath the fluttering rainbow flags. The atmosphere feels intoxicating. 

“Who would have thought that Lima would be hosting a Pride parade?” Blaine marvels, taking it all in.

“I did.” At Blaine’s surprised look, she elaborates, “Jan and I have lived here our entire lives. It’s been our home and it’s been a place of love. Sure, it’s had its share of problems and sometimes the homophobia ramps up again, but all in all — it’s a good place. The people here are my neighbors and my friends. Many came to celebrate our wedding and when Jan died, the funeral home was filled with people who loved her and supported us.”

“That’s amazing,” Blaine says. “High school felt a little different, but, well, it was high school. And Kurt and I have always been grateful for the start that we got here in Lima.” 

“When you and Kurt won that Tony award last year, this town was so proud of you and what you had accomplished. Our lesbian group even hosted a viewing party. You’re our boys.” Liz squeezes his arm with affection.

Overwhelmed with sudden emotion, Blaine leans in for another hug. “Thanks, that means so much to me.” 

Kurt steps up beside him, a wide smile stretched across his face. “Liz, right? So good to see you again!”

“And this must be your girl.” Liz smiles at the little girl in the multi-layered colored tutu. 

“I’m Eloise,” she states firmly, sticking out a hand, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you. Daddies,” she turns to Blaine with her serious face, “Gramps says we’re going to be late. No more talking.” 

“And that’s our cue,” Blaine says as Eloise grabs both of her dads’ hands and starts tugging them away. “Liz, you’re coming to the concert tonight? We’ll come say hi before our set.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Now, go and grandly marshal our parade!”

As Blaine climbs in to perch on the front seat of the convertible next to Kurt, listening to Eloise chatter in the backseat with Burt and Carole, he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. It’s not the crowds of the parades he’s attended in New York or even Columbus, however, the excitement in their faces is the same. The dozen or so floats lined up behind them are built with pride and homespun. 

Blaine left Lima for good a decade ago, making New York City his home. He can’t imagine living any place else and he’s never really had a desire to come back — but now, surrounded by this support and love, he fantasizes briefly about creating a home here, with Eloise and any future children that they might have — a topic they’ve been discussing more recently — with family dinners and backyard barbeques and Friday night ballgames, and finally feeling accepted, embraced for everything that he is, that they are. It feels like a possibility now. It’s never been one before. 

The convertible slowly makes it way down the streets of Lima to cheers and hoots. Eloise waves back enthusiastically, blowing kisses to an already charmed audience. 

Blaine slides his hand around Kurt’s, entwining their fingers together. As always, Blaine is taken by the slow, fond, intimate smile that settles on his husband’s face — a smile just for him. Blaine tugs him closer, and, as the car pauses momentarily in the route, kisses him slow and deep. The crowd whoops loudly in response and Kurt giggles against his lips. 

“Welcome home,” Blaine murmurs and kisses him again.

***

Burt taps on the microphone, letting the squeal settle. Kurt can see his nervousness from where he and Blaine wait in the wings of the auditorium. Even after all of his years in public service, having the spotlight on him is not Burt’s favorite thing, so Kurt’s touched by his dad’s offer to introduce them to the crowd. 

Burt sticks his hands in his pockets. “Uh, you all know my son, Kurt and his husband Blaine, since, you know, they’re the stars of this thing tonight. And they gave me the honor of introducing them. Now, most of the time at these things, the emcee lists off all of the achievements and I could do that, like how we’re all proud of their Tony that they got last year for _The New Normal_. But, uh, I’ve got more to say.” 

The crowd quiets as Burt gathers his thoughts. “Kurt came out to me in high school. Told me that he was gay and, truth be told, I didn’t deal with it well at the time. You know, I was petrified for him, scared for his safety. And the next few years seemed to confirm all of my fears, when he was bullied for who he was.”

Burt glances back at Kurt. “Like I said, when Kurt first told me he was gay, it took me some time to get used to the idea. But I knew this: I loved my kid and he had to know that I would love him no matter what. And you know what? Loving Kurt has been easy, but what’s given me the most joy is watching those around him love him, too. And being here tonight, here in Lima, with you all here to love my sons, I gotta say, I’ve been a little weepy all night.” Burt laughs a little and wipes his eyes. 

Kurt’s not going to cry. He’s not. He’s not going to go out there singing nasally because he’s crying backstage. Blaine sniffles beside him.

“There’s a lot of hate in this world, hate and anger and bigotry, but we can also find love and hope and what’s good in all of us. This Pride weekend represents Lima at its best, and maybe we can carry a little of that with us. And with that, here’s my son and my other son, Kurt and Blaine.”

Kurt lingers in his dad’s hug, before turning to the clamoring crowd. He basks momentarily in the rising cheers, winks at his husband, and then raises the microphone. “Hello, Lima! Let’s get things started, shall we?”

***

The guests have all long trickled out by the time Blaine is able to flop down on a chair. He surveys the remainder of the organizers who linger to clear the garbage and fold the chairs from the celebration banquet. Carole and Burt are absorbed in conversation with the mayor, who had been enthusiastic with her approval over the event, Eloise deep in sleep, curled in Burt’s arms. 

Kurt circles around the table and folds himself onto his husband’s lap—Kurt turns into a cuddly panda bear with the right combination of alcohol and sleep exhaustion. “We done yet?”

Blaine hums in affirmation. “Mmm. Nearly. Burt’s just saying some last goodbyes.”

“Did your parents leave already?” 

“Yeah. They never stay long at these kinds of things.” Or ever, especially his dad, but the weekend has been full of surprises. 

Kurt squeezes Blaine tighter—they’ve had long conversations about Blaine’s tenuous relationship with his father, which has slowly been repairing since Eloise was born. “Did you get a chance to say hello to Will and Emma after the show?” 

“I did. I can’t believe Danny is 11 now. He was a toddler the last night I saw him. It was so nice of them to come and support us.”

“I could hear Sam hollering over everybody else.” Kurt muses, running his fingers through the back of Blaine’s curls. 

“He says he got practice when he followed Mercedes on tour last year.” 

“It was sweet. David’s boyfriend seems nice, too.”

“Yeah, he did. Dave told me that he’s going to propose at his team’s opening game in August.”

Kurt leans back, eyes sparkling with renewed interest. “He is? My, how much he has changed from that scared boy in the locker room. How wonderful for him!” There’s no animosity in his voice—ten years of time plus four months of planning have long soothed any awkward feelings. 

“Right? I’m really happy for him.” 

They’re quiet for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company; with their busy lives, times of quiet companionship without pressures of parenting or their jobs are fleeting. 

“This is what I always wanted,” Kurt says, breaking the silence, “this here. Coming home and not feeling like I have to hide a part of me away.”

“I know. This never seemed like a possibility, growing up.”

“When I was getting pushed into lockers? Slushies thrown on me? No, never.”

Blaine nods in agreement. “Much less welcoming us home as guests of honor. I keep pinching myself.” 

“I wanted so much to get out of Lima so that I could be myself. If I had had this— this acceptance I might have stayed.” Kurt muses. 

“Maybe not— Lima’s community theater is not the same as the great white way, and you– we,” he corrects, “were born to be stars.”

Kurt shushes him. “I know, I’m just thinking aloud.”

Blaine gestures around them. “We did good here today, Kurt. We raised over $5000 for LGBT suicide prevention today. $5000 so other kids won’t feel as alone as we did.”

“It does get better after all, doesn’t it?” Kurt yawns widely. “Come on, let’s go drag Dad home. He’ll never shut up elsewise.” 

* * *

**June 2035 (+1)**

“Oh no. No. No, no, no. You can’t do this to me!” 

“Eloise— stop. We can discuss this— ”

“No! You’re going to ruin everything!” Blaine crosses from the kitchen to watch his eldest bolt from the room, followed by a loud bang of her bedroom door. Blaine winces.

Kurt stands in the middle of the room, looking a little shell-shocked, then shakes his head. Parenting a teenager has been a whirlwind of shifting emotions over the last couple of years, one that doesn’t show signs of abating any time soon. 

“What was that?”

“El just asked if she could go to Pride without us this weekend, and that was the reaction when I said that we always go as a family.”

“Well…”

“Oh no, don’t you start taking her side.” Kurt shakes his head in exasperation.

“She’s almost 15. That’s how old I was when I went to my first Pride.”

“She’s been to dozens of Prides! Since she was in utero!” Kurt waves his arms dramatically. 

“Kurt.” 

Kurt deflates ruefully, “I can’t believe that she’s old enough to do these things without us. It’s only going to be a few more years and she’s going to be leaving us and going to college.” 

“We’ll still have Henry at home.” Blaine soothes a hand over his husband’s arm. Eloise has always insisted on independence from her first steps; Henry on the other hand — Blaine’s not sure if Henry will ever want to leave home on his own accord. 

“It won’t be the same,” Kurt pouts. He sighs and relents. “Fine, she can go with friends to the parade. As long as we clear it with their parents.” 

Blaine laughs. “I’m pretty sure she just wants to go with one girl. Maddie? From her algebra class?”

“Oh, she’s been around here recently, hasn’t she?”

“Kurt. I’m pretty sure Eloise has a crush on her.”

“What? No! Really?”

Blaine smiles at Kurt’s dumbfounded expression. “Really. And I’m pretty sure that she’s going to use this weekend to tell her that.”

“How did I miss that?”

“It’s new, I think. Plus I’m pretty aware of what a besotted Hummel looks like.”

“Besotted, huh?”

Twenty years with this man, and he can still make Kurt blush. “Uh huh. Dreamy eyes, tell-tell blush. Yep, that look there. Besotted.” 

Kurt winds Blaine in by his tie. “Challenge accepted.”

“What challen—” Kurt’s kisses are demanding in an instant _—_ he presses firmly against Blaine, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s shoulders to bring him even closer, coaxing Blaine’s mouth open, deepening the kiss until Blaine’s nearly forgotten where he is and — 

“Gross. You guys make out more than Emily and Jason and they are always playing tonsil hockey.” 

They break sheepishly. Kurt turns to his daughter, “Careful, El, or I might change my mind about letting you go to Pride without us.”

Eloise squeals and launches herself at her dads. “Really, truly??”

Kurt hugs her close—she has grown so much in the last year, but she still has moments where she is still a child. “Really, truly.” He smooths back an errant strand of hair that falls across his daughter’s face. “Pride has meant a lot to your dad and I through the years and it’s been a place where we’ve found ourselves. You should have that opportunity. With some ground rules of course.”

She rolls her eyes, “Pops, it’s just a parade.”

Blaine catches Kurt’s eyes. “Oh, it’s so much more than that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _Lima has its first Pride Parade (after a split with the city council and lawsuit threat) and Kurt and Blaine are invited back home to be the Grand Marshals! End it with happy snuggles back at Burt and Carole's or hot sex at the hotel, you choose._
> 
> Some additional notes:
> 
> 1) Columbus Pride weekend is capped with annual baseball and drag queen competition called [Bat'on Rouge](https://columbuspride.org/events/clgsas-bat-n-rouge/). It's hosted by the two queens, Nina and Virginia (who greet Blaine at his first Pride). The Tippi Hedron costume referenced won the event in 2015, not 2014, because I couldn't find the 2014 winner. (Thanks to dontbefanci for the details).
> 
> 2). The Lima Pride and threatened lawsuits are based off of events that happened in [ Starkville, Mississippi](https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/starkville-pride-parade-turnout_us_5ab96d89e4b008c9e5fa6a43) this year. 
> 
> 3) The costume that Kurt threatened to wear was inspiration for an adorable piece of [Klaine fanart](http://dukdukbonbon.tumblr.com/post/161816912120/pride-month-klaine-original-costume-idea-is).
> 
> 4) The musical that Kurt and Blaine win Tonys for is _The New Normal: The Musical_ It's my inside joke for the short lived, semi-autobiographical Ryan Murphy show about two men and their adventuring in surrogacy, because the levels of inception make me laugh. Kurt won Best Actor for playing Bryan Collins, Blaine won for the musical score, and they both won for Best Musical. (As an aside, Broadway really needs to start making more happy LGBTQ musicals). 
> 
> ***  
> Additional thanks to slayediest for hosting the fic exchange and for her time bouncing off ideas, as well as to KlaineHarmony who walked me through some early sticking points.


End file.
